


The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

by len1985



Category: Berena - Fandom, Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/len1985/pseuds/len1985
Summary: Berena/Moulin Rouge AUI hope this is ok?? I've never done a film crossover before...Enjoy!! :-)





	1. Chapter 1

Bernie Wolfe was slumped against the bed frame on the floor of her room, at the pension house overlooking the infamous, but now closed down, Moulin Rouge. Her eyes were no doubt bloodshot and puffy from the endless sobbing, and her heart had stopped beating the second Serena's did all those months ago. The problem was that she was ostensibly still alive. She lets the bottle slip from her hand to clink with the others on the floor. It seemed that Bourbon and Absinthe didn't numb the pain of losing the love of your life, and God knows she'd drunk enough of both to test the theory.

_Tell our story Bernie. Promise me. Promise me..._

It had been Serena's dying wish, whispered between them with what proved to be almost her last breath. Bernie hadn't touched a typewriter since that day. She just couldn't. But she had promised her. That thought makes her step rather unsteadily to her feet and sway across the room towards her desk, wiping at her face with her sleeve. She runs her fingers over the keys and tries to remember a time when she had barely left the machine. Her mind can almost conjure Serena lying on the bed, covered by only a sheet, as they ran through all the pages she could churn out in the space between making love. The brunette's smile like the brightest star, as she relishes every word that Bernie puts together, looking at her like she was the centre of her universe. Nothing existed for them outside of the walls of their love nest and no one could touch them.

Bernie shuts her eyes as a fresh wave of tears hits, the brunette's laughter ringing in her ears as she pictures the memory of herself snatching the pages away playfully to throw them over her shoulder with abandon, as she leans down to crawl over the mattress and covers Serena's naked body with her own. Her hand reaches out in the empty room as if she can still touch the perfect curves that she had spent so many hours learning and she swears she can almost feel Serena underneath her fingertips.

She sits heavily at the chair in front of her typewriter and just stares at it for the longest time. _You promised her_ , she wills herself to grab at the first blank piece of paper beside her and thread it into the roller. The words swirl and swim inside her brain, but don't quite reach her hands, as she hovers her fingers over the keys and tries to start writing.

Eventually the words start to flow, as the familiar, rhythmic tapping on the keyboard provides some small measure of comfort. She begins to tell the tale of how she came to Paris the previous year, to follow her dreams of becoming a writer in the Bohemian epicentre of Montmartre. Of the Moulin Rouge and the most beautiful courtesan in the world, Serena ‘The Sparkling Diamond.’ She lets the tears drop unimpeded as she types that she loved her. Of how she loved her. _The woman I loved is dead...._

One year earlier

Bernie had travelled from London to Paris, against the wishes of her overbearing and traditionalist father, who'd rather she settle down and be someone's wife, someone's mother. _If only he could see me now_. She hid her short blonde curls under a man's cap and dressed in more masculine clothing, ensuring it was always baggy to hide her curves. She knew she'd have more success as a writer if she was Bernard and not Berenice. Besides, corsets and long dresses seemed too oppressive and she couldn't stand their constrictive nature. Her ruse seemed to fool everyone so far and as long as she was careful, she'd be able to make it as a male writer here.

She could afford to rent a small room at a rundown hostel with a view of the quarter. The imposing Moulin Rouge facing her, not more than a stone's throw away. It was a meagre existence but it was all hers. Now all she had to do was write something to keep the earnings coming in. She sat at her typewriter in her dwellings and hoped for inspiration. She wanted to write about the Bohemian ideals: freedom, beauty, truth and love. The last one especially, only problem was she'd never been in love before...

Her inner musings are rudely and loudly disturbed by the crashing of a narcoleptic Argentinean through her ceiling, quickly followed by a sea of faces checking on their friend. She soon finds herself dragged up to their rehearsal for a play they were putting together, to read the Argentine’s part. The dwarf leader of these mismatched outsiders introduces himself as Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.

“I know you're a woman but your secret’s safe with me.” He whispers and winks conspiratorially as Bernie flushes, speechless.

It seems that in trying to offer her artistic input she accidently offends the play's writer Audrey, who quits and storms out. Bernie soon finds herself his successor, whether she wants the job or not.

Toulouse explains that they are working on a Spectacular Spectacular to sell to Harold Zidler, the owner of the Moulin Rouge. They would perform the show inside the cabaret house and become instant superstars of the Bohemian movement. He confesses that Harry will not be impressed that Audrey is gone, but he has a plan. They will dress Bernie in the Argentinean’s best tuxedo and top hat and she can pitch her ideas to Serena. She was Harry's best courtesan and if she liked Bernie's work, then she could persuade Harry to back them with their new writer. Bernie agrees because at least it was a job with the potential for steady income.

Once inside the Moulin Rouge that evening, the group are offered a small booth at the edges of the theatre and Bernie takes in her surroundings open mouthed. The entire place was pure decadent, opulent excess, she'd never seen anything like it. She tugs on the inside collar of her borrowed shirt, nervous of her ability to pull this off.

She quickly forgets everything else around her as the sweetest voice she'd ever heard fills the auditorium. She swallows thickly as a pair of stocking clad legs in heels appear from somewhere in the ceiling, followed by the rest of the most heavenly creature she'd ever laid eyes on.

“That's her! That's Serena!” Toulouse enthuses as Bernie looks on stunned.

She knew of her attraction to other woman, had never acted on it, but she couldn't look away from the woman now dangling from some sort of trapeze as it slowly made it's way to the floor, her seductive tones hypnotising the helpless writer.

Little did she know that she wasn't the only one watching, as the man sitting back to back with her in the adjacent booth studied the courtesan intently.

“I've arranged a private meeting between Serena and yourself dear Duke, after the show. Totally alone.” Zidler needed the wealthy man's financial aid to convert the Moulin Rouge into a proper theatre and what better to bargain with than his biggest asset. Serena.

“I've arranged a private meeting between Serena and yourself Bernie, after the show. Totally alone.” Toulouse explains to the petrified writer.

“Alone?” Bernie’s breath leaves her body in a rush of anxiety.

“You read her some of your poems and get her on side for the show. Zidler wouldn't refuse her anything.” Toulouse assures her.

Harold leaves the Duke and rushes off to take his place with Serena for his part in the number.

Toulouse is very energetically encouraging Bernie to sell their show when he knocks a tray of drinks all over the Duke.

“I'm so terribly sorry.” He flicks his handkerchief out of his pocket and starts to dry off the Duke.

Serena and Harry are huddled behind the skirts of the can-can dancers as she hurriedly carries out her costume change mid act.

“If you impress this Duke with your feminine whiles, he'll finance everything and you my little sparrow will be a real actress.” Harry tells her.

“A real actress.” Serena echoes wistfully. It was all she'd ever wanted. “Which one is he?” They jump out from their hiding place and Harry looks over to the Duke’s booth, not happy that Toulouse is bothering their potential benefactor.

“He's the one Toulouse is shaking his hanky at.” He notes annoyed.

Toulouse has soaked his own hanky through and reaches to take Bernie's as Serena looks over to see him waving it in Bernie's face.

“Really?” Serena thinks the man seems a little young and dishevelled for a Duke as she peeks over Harry's shoulder as she dances.

Zidler turns them in time to see Toulouse now fawning over the real Duke with the cloth. “Yes. Absolutely. That's him.”

She shrugs and continues on with the remainder of her song. When it comes to the part of the night where she can pick a dance partner from the audience, her choice is obvious. She heads straight over to Bernie and extends her hand to the startled blonde.

“I believe you've been expecting me.” She smiles down at the spellbound writer.

“Yes.” Bernie doesn't trust her voice to say anymore as she regards the outstretched hand with unmasked terror.

“Lady’s choice. Dance with me.” Serena wasn't backing down as she practically drags Bernie to the floor.

Zidler smiles smugly, unaware that the figure under the top hat is not really the Duke.

Bernie tenses from head to toe as Serena runs her hands down from her shoulders to her feet and back up again. She moans quietly as she feels her nipples stand to attention at the contact. She panics that Serena is sure to notice a couple of things that shouldn't be there and one that definitely should be, but that she doesn't have. If she is aware, she doesn't flinch and she never mentions it. Bernie sighs out, relieved that she hasn't blown her cover.

“I'm very much looking forward to getting better acquainted in my room later.” She purrs into Bernie's ear.

“Yes. I'm exited to share my talents with you. A private poetry reading.” Bernie smiles shyly.

“Poetry. Right. Is that what you want to call it?” Serena winks knowingly and Bernie thinks she's completely missed something. “I'll see you very soon.” She pushes Bernie back to sit in her seat and sashays off to finish her act.

Bernie is left breathless and staring unashamedly at the unrivalled beauty of the courtesan as she is lifted back up to the ceiling on her trapeze. She gasps out and almost rushes over to catch her as she watches the woman appear to fall from an alarming height, but thankfully she lands in the strong arms of one of the male dancers.

Zidler plays it off as part of the show to an explosion of applause as Serena is carried off backstage and tended to by Marie, who wakes Serena with some smelling salts. Serena puts her dizzy spell down to the restrictive costume, and doesn't notice the blood she has just coughed up into Marie's hanky, as the older woman speedily hides the item.

“How are you my darling?” Harry rushes in to check on his biggest seller. “Still up for your rendezvous with the Duke, I hope.”

“Yes Harry. I'm fine. I'm fine.” Serena pushes up from the cot she'd been placed on and walks off to her personal room to find a cautious Bernie pacing outside. “Come in. I'll just be a moment to change out of this costume.”

Bernie follows her in and keeps her eyes firmly fixed on the view of the landscape through the open air window as she hears the unmistakable sounds of Serena changing.

“Now. You must be thirsty after the show. Champagne?” Serena gestures to the tray of refreshments.

Bernie's eyes trail over the brunette's form in what can only be described as almost see through lingerie. “Uh...” She looks gorgeous and Bernie's brain short circuits.

“Are you hungry?” Serena continues to smile as Bernie looks down at the floor flushed and embarrassed.

“I'd rather just get on with it.” Bernie means the poetry. Serena thinks she means something entirely more intimate and is surprised by the bluntness.

“Alright. Won't you join me on the bed then?” Serena drapes herself alluringly over the bedding.

“I'd rather stand.” Bernie blurts out, not sure why she's being invited to the bed. “But stay there if you wish.” She adds when Serena moves to get up. “I can do it from here.”

Serena raises her eyebrows in shock. “Can you?”

Bernie nods and starts to pace the room, searching for a topic to come up with a poem about.

“Are you nervous?” Serena watches the Duke rather amused and strangely touched by his shyness.

“It just sometimes takes a while for inspiration to come.” Bernie explains apologetically.

“Oh well. Let me help you with that.” The courtesan saunters over to the blonde and moves her hand to grab for ‘his’ crotch. Bernie jumps back alarmed when she sees the brunette's intention. She didn't have anything to hold onto in that area.

“It's a little bit funny. This feeling inside...” Bernie starts her poem, keeping out of reach of Serena’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Serena’s brow crinkles in confusion.

“A poetry reading. Is this ok? Is it what you wanted?” Bernie's face drops, she was going about this wrongly perhaps.

“Ok...yes. Poetry.” Serena is puzzled but she has to play along she guesses for the sake of the money.

“I'm not one of those who can easily hide.” Bernie continues shakily, unsure if this was right or not.

She jumps clean out of her skin when Serena starts writhing and screaming as she rolls around on the floor in apparent arousal. Bernie breaks into song as she carries on with her poem and watches the courtesan very confused.

Serena stills as she hears the rest of Bernie's words and studies her awestruck, as she serenades her with the most beautiful poem she'd ever heard.

Bernie finishes and looks timidly over to Serena, waiting nervously for her critique.

Serena walks slowly over to the other woman and wraps her arms around Bernie's neck. “I can't believe it.” She looks deep into the Duke's brown eyes and Bernie's breath catches in her chest. “I've fallen in love with a young, handsome, talented Duke.” She leans in to kiss the blonde.

Bernie beams at Serena's declaration of love and moves to meet the kiss when she realises what the brunette said.

“Duke?” She repeats confused as Serena nods. “I am not a Duke.” She still has her arms around the courtesan’s waist.

“What?” Serena pulls away shocked. “You're not?”

“No. I'm a writer.” Bernie clarifies, forgetting herself and removing the top hat.

“You're a woman.” Serena exclaims as she takes in the soft blonde curls. How could she have missed it? The cheek bones, the softness of the skin on her face, absent of even a hint of stubble, the gentle voice and those eyes. Of course she was a woman.

“Please. Don't tell anyone. I just want to be a writer and they won't take me seriously as a woman.” Bernie begs the brunette. “Haven't you ever had a dream?” She glances up at Serena through her now revealed fringe.

Serena flushes and thinks of her own dream to be an actress. She wouldn't tell anyone. “You're one of Toulouse’s writers.” Serena guesses. “I'll kill him!” She fumes when Bernie nods.

Toulouse and the others had been spying outside and he blanches at Serena's threat and moves further out of sight.

“You need to leave. The real Duke will be here any minute.” Bernie tucks her hair hastily back under her hat as Serena opens the door and almost falls over the man himself. She slams the door in the Duke's face to avoid discovery. “Hide!” She hisses at the blonde, who ducks behind the food tray.

The Duke knocks on the door again, a little annoyed by the courtesan’s actions.

“Dear Duke. Forgive my rudeness, you startled me. You’re quite the imposing figure, I'm sure you know.” Serena gestures for the man to enter the room as Bernie cringes at Serena's flirtations.

“No harm done.” The Duke moves to pour some champagne for them both and most likely find Bernie the process.

“Don't!” Serena shouts and the Duke turns to her. “...you just love the view.” She adds and takes them further into the room towards the window.

The Duke hums his tepid agreement and heads back to the tray.

Serena does the only thing she can think of and trails the Duke on top of her onto the bed. “Oh dear Duke. I knew you felt it too.” She pulls the man down to her bosom and signals with her hand over the Duke's shoulder for Bernie to use the window. “Oh you are a naughty boy!” She waves Bernie away mouthing ‘Go!’

Bernie fixes her with a wounded look that inexplicably makes Serena feel compelled to stop this going any further.

“Yes. You're right, Duke. Of course we should wait until after opening night.” She catches the blonde's eye with a ‘happy now?’ expression, as Bernie smiles relieved, and hides out of sight as Serena ushers the Duke back outside. Serena slumps exhausted against the inside of her door.

Bernie comes back into the centre of the room and Serena meets her there.

“You need to go now. Please.” Serena gasps and then passes out as Bernie catches her before she falls.

“Serena?” Bernie panics as she tries to shake the woman awake. “Serena?” She looks frantically around for something that might help. Coming up empty, all she can do is shuffle them over to the bed and the force of throwing the brunette onto the covers pulls Bernie down on top of her with a huff.

“Excuse me mademoiselle. Forgot my hat.” The Duke reappears in time to find them in the compromising position, just as Serena comes round. “Foul play?” The Duke is livid.

Serena springs into action then. “Oh no dear Duke. Seeing you tonight left me so inspired that I just had to call an emergency rehearsal for the play.” Serena smiles as she indicates Bernie. “This is our writer...”

“Bernard Wolfe, sir. Bernie, if you prefer.” Bernie interjects when she sees Serena flail, she hadn't given her name.

“You really expect me to believe that?” The Duke would not be made a fool of.

Toulouse saves the day by coming out of hiding and making a fuss about the Duke interrupting their run through.

Even Zidler bursts in when he sees the crowd disturbing Serena and the Duke from his spy hole.

“It's alright, Harry. The Duke knows all about the impromptu rehearsal and Bernard, the new writer.” Serena pleads with her eyes for Zidler to play along.

“Ah yes! Bernard lad. Fine writer, this one.” Harry slaps Bernie on the back almost winding her.

“What's the story?” Panic descends as the Duke poses the question that none of them had the answer to.

“It's about love.” Bernie finds her inspiration from the items in Serena's room. “Set in India. A young courtesan falls for a penniless writ...sitar player. She mistakes him for a wealthy maharaja. She wasn't tricked on purpose, he was dressed as a maharaja for a play he was appearing in.” Bernie looks over at Serena with a small smile. “The real maharaja is an evil, old man who forces the courtesan into a relationship. But the young lovers continue to meet in secret, right under the maharaja’s nose. There is a magical sitar...”

“Played by me!” Toulouse pipes up.

“...that gives the game away. It can only speak the truth. But the couple manage to escape and live happily ever after.” Bernie concludes.

“Generally, I like it.” The Duke approves to huge cheers all round.

Bernie and the Bohemians head back to their lodgings to celebrate. While the others drink and party, Bernie sits at her typewriter trying to get started, but her mind and her eyes keep wandering to Serena. She can see the courtesan going about her routine from her window and finds herself heading back to the Moulin Rouge to see her. Unbeknownst to the blonde, Serena had also been watching her, thoroughly intrigued by the striking writer.

Meanwhile Harry and the Duke sign a contract that means that the Duke will fund the project but in exchange, Serena belongs exclusively to him and will come to him as soon as the curtain closes on opening night. He also insists that he hold the deeds to the Moulin Rouge as collateral. Zidler all too willing signs Serena over to the Duke without the woman even knowing about it.

Bernie climbs silently up the side of the structure until she reaches the roof terrace she'd last seen Serena sitting in.

Serena jumps as she suddenly notices the woman behind her.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.” Bernie holds up her hands, letting the courtesan know that she came in peace.

“You shouldn't be here.” Serena stands to go back inside.

“I just wanted to see you... I wanted to ask...” Bernie stumbles over her words. “You said that you loved me.” She glances up at Serena and then back to the ground.

“I'm a courtesan. I'm paid to make men believe what they want to believe.” Serena crushes her hope under her heel.

Bernie realises what she'd said. “What about a woman?” She hazards feeling a little glimmer of courage inside herself.

“What?” Serena doesn't understand the question.

“You said ‘men.’ I'm not a man though, am I?” Bernie challenges.

“I can't fall in love with anyone.” Serena affirms, ready to leave again.

“Can't fall in love?” Bernie echoes incredulously.

Serena nods sadly and looks off to some point in the distance with a harsh sigh of resignation. “You'd be wasting your time to fall in love with me. I'm stuck here until the highest bidder comes along or I can pay my own way out.”

Bernie steps closer to the brunette and waits for Serena to turn towards her. “What if I'm already in love with you?”

“Bernie.” There is a warning in the courtesan’s tone. “You can't...we can't -”

Bernie cuts her off with a brush of her lips against Serena's. Serena tries to resist but she knows her own heart too well. She was already falling in love with Bernie. It seemed so irrelevant that they were both women. That simple brushing of lips had made Serena feel more for Bernie, than all the men she'd been with put together.

“You're gonna be bad for business. I can tell.” Serena grins and leans in for a deeper kiss.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“What's your name short for?” Serena asks out of the blue one night when they are having a late supper together at Bernie's lodgings. “I know it's not Bernard.” She giggles as she feeds Bernie one of the grapes from the plate between them.

Bernie turns a wonderful shade of crimson. She'd always secretly hated her name. “Oh...ah...it's Berenice.” She admits shyly.

“Berenice.” Serena repeats with a voice filled with wonder. “My beautiful Berenice.” She caresses the blonde’s cheek softly and looks at her like she is the most beautiful thing in her world. Serena knows that she is. “I wish you didn't have to wear those silly hats to cover up your gorgeous curls.” Serena runs her fingers through the golden ringlets. Part of her is proud and honoured that no one else gets to do this, to see all of the real Bernie.

“You're the beautiful one.” Bernie covers the hand in her hair and brings in to her lips. “These last few weeks with you have brought me to life. I never realised how empty my life was before you.” Bernie's eyes glimmer with unmistakable emotion and immeasurable love for the woman beside her.

Serena smiles widely at what she sees in the blonde's face. Bernie always looked her in the eye when she told her how beautiful she thought she was. No one had ever done that before. All of those men had never really seen her, if they ever said the words they were staring salaciously at her body and not interested in anything else. “Make love to me?” Her heart makes the request. She'd never made love before and she wanted Bernie to be her first. Her only.

Bernie's head snaps up to look her in the eye. “I...uh...are you sure that's what you want?” Everything that they'd shared over the previous weeks had been incredible and Bernie wanted nothing more than to take the next step.

Serena's only response is to stand and remove her clothing and to move over to lie on the bed. She could feel her heart hammering inside her chest and couldn't remember ever being this nervous about her body or what she was about to do. Her original bravery starts to wain when Bernie doesn't come to join her. Perhaps she didn't want her in that way. “We don't have to if you don't -” She reaches to cover herself with the sheet, suddenly shy and burning with the sting of rejection.

“Wait!” Bernie steps over to Serena's side of the bed and gently pulls away the sheet to reveal Serena's bare form.

Serena has never been shy about being naked in front of anyone. It was a luxury ill afforded in her line of work, but there was just something almost unsettling about the blonde's focused attention, that drew goosebumps to the surface of her skin.

Bernie can't speak, she can't move. She has no idea what to do now.

“I never been with a woman before.” Serena blurts out into the awkward silence that seems to stretch between them. She had plenty of experience with men, she wasn't sure how that applied here.

Bernie startles out of her thoughts and sits on the end of the bed, facing away from the brunette, with a heavy, uneven sigh. “I've never been with anyone before.” She confesses so quietly that Serena almost misses it. “I have no idea how to...how to...” She puts her head in her hands and then tugs exasperatedly at her hair. “How to pleasure you.” She half turns her head towards the courtesan but doesn't look directly at Serena. “I understand if you would prefer to be with someone who can give you everything that you need.” Bernie doesn't admit that she means a man.

Serena slides along the covers to kneel behind her, moving the blonde's curls aside, she plants delicate kisses to the side of her neck, as her other hand comes up and over Bernie's shoulder, reaching to undo the buttons of her shirt.

Bernie shudders at the touch and moans into the air, head tilting back to rest on the brunette's shoulder, as Serena's fingers work their way inside the edges of her shirt, seeking out and finding warm, willing flesh.

“We can learn together.” Serena's hot breath on the shell of her ear makes Bernie's head spin, as all she can offer is another soft cry of desire and a slight nod to accept the invitation.

Serena has her shirt unbuttoned completely now and is pulling the sides down off her shoulders, as she drops quick kisses to the unveiled skin across her back between each shoulder blade. Bernie finds herself dragged backwards fully onto the mattress as the other woman makes light work of the rest of her clothes.

“If you were wearing women's clothing, we might have been here for a while.” Both women smile and dive in for a heart stopping kiss.

Bernie can't hold back the tears when Serena takes her over the edge for the very first time. It was all too much, too many glorious sensations that steal her breath and leave her covered in a sheen of perspiration. She sobs with no way of stopping herself as Serena cradles her in her arms.

“Is it like that every time?” She looks up into the eyes of the woman she loves, half terrified that she will die if it is so intense every time, half terrified that it might not feel so wonderful ever again.

“I don't know.” Serena answers truthfully. “I've never made love with anyone before you.” She leans down to kiss Bernie tenderly. “Did it hurt?” She asks against the others woman’s lips, remembering her first time was rough and unpleasant to say the least.

Bernie shakes her head. “It was amazing.” She runs the backs of her fingers over the side of Serena’s face. “Let me show you.” She whispers as she moves to lie on top of the brunette.

Just the weight of the blonde and the ways that her body brushes against Serena's, so different from any man, makes the brunette flood with longing. She'd never known it to feel like this.

Bernie can't say that she knows what she's doing, she just knows she wants to touch everything that Serena has to offer. She strokes and caresses, she bites and nips and licks and sucks at the delicious body underneath her, spurred on by the brunette’s reactions. She wants to give her lover the same unprecedented ecstasy that Serena had made her feel.

“Berenice!” Serena screams her real name into the space between their mingled breaths as she climaxes and it is the sweetest sound Bernie has ever heard. Nothing can erase the smile on her face as she watches her lover writhe and twitch with pleasure. Pleasure that she has bestowed upon her. Nothing can ever erase the memory of the look on her face, the feel of her around her fingers, the smell of her, the taste. The only thing that makes this moment even more perfect is the knowledge that she can do it all again.

And they do, several times in fact, that night, as they indeed learn together as Serena had suggested. Afterwards both women lie exhausted but ecstatic in each other's embrace as they drift into peaceful sleep, dreaming only of each other and their undeniable love.

They see one another almost daily in all those weeks, under the guise of compellingly legitimate reasons. No one could suspect anything of the writer and the lead actress spending time together alone. It's almost too easy.

Bernie approaches Serena and the Duke as they watch over rehearsals one afternoon, script in hand.

“I beg your pardon, sir, mademoiselle. I just wanted to see if I could possibly ask if mademoiselle Serena was aware of the new scene. The ‘will the young lovers be meeting at the sitar player's humble abode?’ scene. Perhaps we could look it over tonight?” Bernie fixes her eyes on the courtesan with a knowing look.

“Oh yes of course.” Serena smiles and tries to keep her expression schooled to friendly professionalism, as she inwardly bursts with joy.

“But my dear, I've arranged a special supper for us in the Gothic Tower.” The Duke whines, it was getting ridiculous how little time be got to spend with Serena alone.

“No. The lovers WILL be meeting at the sitar player's humble abode scene is pivotal. We will work on it tonight until I am completely satisfied.” Serena dismisses the Duke's advances and Bernie struggles to hide her delight. “Perhaps I could take a quick look at your thoughts now?” Bernie and Serena wander off, as the blonde throws the Duke a faux apologetic smile and shoulder shrug.

He goes straight to Zidler to complain about the lack of interest in him Serena seems to show, because she's always at it with the bloody writer... Harold is in the middle of placating the Duke when he glances up to the gallery and spots their leading lady and their writer locked in a passionate kiss.

“So you'll come tonight?” Bernie pulls away grinning with Serena's lipstick all over her mouth.

“Yes!” Serena whispers emphatically and tries to rub some of the evidence off Bernie's face. Useless really, when they surge forward for another kiss.

The Duke sees Zidler staring at something overhead behind him and starts to spin towards the embracing couple.

“Dear Duke!” Harry cries to get his attention away from the pair. “I will insist Serena takes the night off.” He guides them in the other direction so that the Duke is none the wiser.

Serena is in her dressing room smiling into the mirror when Zidler finds her, thankfully alone.

“How long has it been going on?” He steps up behind the courtesan.

Serena opens her mouth to imply she has no idea what he's talking about when Harry adds. “You and Bernie? How long?”

“Harry, don't be ridiculous...” Serena tries to lie.

“I SAW YOU TOGETHER!” Zidler hollers in the brunette's face.

Serena can't deny it then. “It's nothing. Just a silly infatuation. Nothing.” She hates every word forced to come out of her mouth.

“You will end it and you will join the Duke tonight for supper.” Harry insists.

“Harry, I -” Serena begins to protest, she couldn't end it, she just couldn't.

“The Duke holds the deeds to the Moulin Rouge, Serena. If you don't do this, if you don't go to him on opening night. We're all finished.” Zidler pressures the courtesan, she had no other choice.

Unfortunately Serena collapses again and can't see either of them that night.

Harold offers some silly excuse to the Duke but no one tells Bernie anything, so she is left to stew in the thought all night that she was probably with the Duke at that moment.

“Where were you last night?” Bernie asks again as Serena lies on the blonde’s bed the next morning. They had made love but Serena seemed distant, sadden somehow and Bernie was starting to worry.

“I told you. I was unwell.” Serena can't look her in the eye, even though it's true.

“You can tell me if...” Bernie moves to sit with Serena on the bed.

“I think we should stop.” Serena says suddenly. “Harold knows, everyone knows. Soon the Duke will find out. I belong to him.” Serena stands to go over to the window. “On opening night, once the curtain falls, I have to sleep with the Duke. And the jealousy will drive you mad.” Serena feels Bernie’s arms encircle her waist and for a moment she leans into it, before pulling away.

“I won't get jealous.” Serena huffs out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “I promise, I won't get jealous.” Bernie repeats.

“It doesn't work like that, Bernie.” Serena tries to stick to her guns.

“Then we'll write a new scene. A song. So that wherever we are, even when we can't be together, we still know that we love each other.” Bernie clings desperately to the brunette as she wracks her brain for the first line of their song. “Never knew I could feel like this.” She begins to sing softly in Serena's ear. “Like I’ve never seen the sky before.”

Serena steps away as the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Why couldn't Bernie understand that they would never end up together? Why couldn't her own heart accept it either?

“I want to vanish inside your kiss.

Every day I’m loving you more and more.” Bernie continues to sing, refusing to let her go. “We'll call it Come What May.” She whispers to her lover. Serena's last shred of resolve vanishes with the sight of the open, hopeful face of the woman she loves.

They finish the song and write the scene to include it and then the day of final dress rehearsal arrives.

The Duke has a seat front and centre to watch the run through and critique the fruits of his investment. He is oblivious to the fact that Serena seems to be singing her part of Come What May exclusively to Bernie, until a meddling chorus dancer brings the affair to his attention at the end.

“If you ask me, this ending makes no sense. Why wouldn't the courtesan choose the maharaja over the penniless writer?” She pauses to let that sink in. “Oops! I mean sitar player...”

The Duke looks between Serena and the writer and he sees it then. They had been making a fool of him all along. “I don't like this ending.” He announces, getting all eyes on him then.

“Dear Duke?” Zidler looks nervous.

“Why would the courtesan choose a penniless sitar player over the maharaja? He can offer her lifelong security. That's real love. Once the sitar player has satisfied his lust for her, he will leave her.” The Duke glances between the lovers, making his true meaning clear. “Why wouldn't the courtesan choose the maharaja?”

Bernie's temper reaches boiling point as she screams at the Duke. “Because she doesn't love you!” Deafening silence follows as everyone realises what the young writer has rather fiercely implied. “Him...she doesn't love him.” Bernie stutters out her correction much too late.

“Monsieur Zidler.” The Duke turns his attentions to the club owner. “The ending will be rewritten with the courtesan choosing the maharaja and without this new lover's song. It can be finalised and rehearsed in the morning before opening night tomorrow.”

“My dear Duke, I'm afraid there simply isn't time -” Harold starts to object.

“Harry.” Serena steps in then. “The poor Duke is being treated appallingly.” She descents the stage stairs to head over to the Duke. “These silly writers and their overactive imaginations, developing ridiculous infatuations.” She won't look at Bernie as she reaches the man. “Why don't you and I have a little supper together and we can discuss how we want the story to end.” Serena traces the Dukes collar with one finger and Bernie has to turn away heartbroken.

Bernie is waiting for her at the side door when she has changed to go meet the Duke. She grabs the brunette by the arm and pulls her into a quiet alcove.

“I don't want you to sleep with him.” Bernie rests her forehead against the side of Serena's head.

Serena fights to hold back her tears. “You promised me. You promised me you wouldn't be jealous.”

“Please.” Bernie begs as she grips on tightly to Serena. “I know that I can't give you everything that he can. I can't compete with a man.” If Serena chose her they'd never get married, or have children, she couldn't provide for them like the Duke could.

“No. Bernie. These past few weeks with you have meant more to me than a hundred lifetimes with any man. None of them could ever compete with you.” Serena cups Bernie's face in her hands and looks at her to make sure she's heard her. “I love you. Come What May.” She steps away from the blonde and tracks her hand down Bernie's body until their hands are linked. Bernie clings to the very tips of her fingers until she is forced to let go.

Serena meets the Duke for supper while Bernie stays behind at the theatre, her jealousy simmering dangerously. It only makes matters worse when she thinks of how her misspoken confession had forced Serena's hand. This was her fault. Her lungs feel like they are on fire, jealousy twists and churns in her stomach, her heart aches and bleeds from this self inflicted knife wound.

She feels her anger bubble over as she watches the dancers perform a sultry tango about jealousy and betrayal. She needed to get out, she needed air. She needed the flashing images of Serena with the Duke to stop.

Her feet seem to carry her of their own accord, as she finds herself trudging through the pouring rain straight to where she knows Serena is. Looking up she sees the woman she loves with the Duke's arms wrapped around her from behind. His hands on Serena, his lips tasting the skin of her neck. Bernie can't make herself look away as Serena notices her on the street below. Even with the rain, Serena can see the tracks of tears on her cheeks, knows that Bernie is crying. Her voice carries as a hushed whisper on the wind straight to the blonde's ears. “Come what may, I will love you until my dying day.”

The words should be like music to the blonde but she just feels flooded with sadness as she forces her feet to keep walking.

“No.” Serena stills the Duke's advances with the one word no one had ever dared utter to him before.

“No?” He snarls as he glances Bernie leaving. “Oh I see. Our very own penniless sitar player.” The venom in his voice frightens the courtesan as he drags her inside, deaf to Serena's protests. He throws her to the floor as he rips the diamond necklace he had gifted to the ungrateful whore from her neck.

Serena is crippled with fear by the lustful anger swirling in his eyes and can barely start to scramble away before the Duke is behind her on the floor ripping at her dress.

“No! Please!” Serena crumples in agony as his rough hands grip her breast tightly, squeezing painfully as he continues to undress her. She cries out as he bites down on the flesh of her shoulder and flings her on to the bed in just her undergarments, terrified by the undeniable intent in his gaze as he starts to climb on top of her. She screws her eyes shut as much as she can and is powerless to do anything other than wait for the inevitable.

The next thing she sees is his unconscious body lying half over her, a wound bleeding on his head. She looks up to see her saviour: Le Chocolat. He appears to have hit the Duke with some kind of wooden club. Relief and fear fight for prevalence inside her, this had stopped him this time, but she was his anyway as of tomorrow night. Too weak to move, she allows Le Chocolat to carry her outside and asks him to take her to the only place she ever wants to be, with the only person who matters. Bernie.

The blonde was staring unseeingly out her window when she was startled by Serena's arrival. She takes in her state of undress, her frightened expression, the bruises on her chest and was that a bite mark on her shoulder? She catches the brunette as she practically falls into her embrace.

“I couldn't do it. I saw you there and I just couldn't.” Serena pants out between laboured breaths. “The Duke. He'll be looking for me. He'll send someone to take me back to him. What do I do?” Serena searches for answers in Bernie's beautiful face.

“We'll leave. We'll leave tonight.” Bernie sounds certain. “We'll go somewhere he can't find us. We'll be together, that's all that counts.”

“But your show?” Serena asks quietly.

“I don't care about the show.” Bernie cups the courtesan’s face in her hands, the rest of her meaning unspoken, but none the less clear. _I care about you._

“Alright. We'll go.” Serena smiles as she stares lovingly into deep, brown eyes.

“Chocolat, take mademoiselle Serena to gather her things.” Bernie addresses the dancer. “I’ll wait here for you. Hurry.” Bernie kisses the brunette softly.

Serena rushes off with the man to pack up what she needs at her dressing room in the Moulin Rouge, but Zidler is not far behind her.

“If you don't go back to the Duke, he'll have Bernie killed.” Harry warns her.

Serena’s breath catches in her throat at even the suggestion. “No. He can’t.” She pushes the words out.

“I just spoke with him, he was completely serious. He has the power, you know he can do it. And he will if you don't choose him, Serena.”

“It doesn't matter. He's too late. We're leaving. Now. Bernie loves me, I'm leaving and you can't stop me.” Serena closes her luggage with a more defiant air than she feels and starts to go.

“Serena, you're dying.” Zidler finally admits.

Serena looks at him to gauge the truth of his confession. “No. It's not true... Marie?” She turns to the older woman, knows she would be honest. The quick glance is enough to let her know it is very much true. “I'm dying.” She mumbles out stunned and defeated.

“You must go to Bernie. Tell him you don't love him. It's the only way poppet. Surely you must see that.” Harold begs her to come to her senses.

“No!” Serena shouts enraged. She couldn't do that even if she wanted to. There was no hiding feelings this strong, this obvious. Bernie would see straight through her.

“You're a great actress, Serena. If anyone can make him believe it, it's you.” Zidler counters, reading her mind. “Hurt him. Hurt him to save him. Otherwise he's at the mercy of the Duke.”

Serena slowly gets dressed, sick to her stomach at the thought of what she was about to do to her love. Bernie would never forgive her, but that was the point she reasoned. She would hate her but she would live. Serena wouldn't have to live with her actions for very much longer it would seem and Bernie could move on. She could live a long and full and, Serena prayed, happy life and all it would take was one lie. There was no saving Serena now, but she could and would save Bernie.

Her heart and footsteps heavy, she made the short journey to the blonde’s room, and wrestled with herself not to let the tears already blurring her vision fall.


	3. Chapter 3

Bernie waits all night by the window for Serena to come back. She had hastily thrown the few possessions she owned into her bag as soon as Serena had left. Now, she is anxiously standing watching the sunrise, filled with concern as each minute passed without the brunette.

Serena appears suddenly, at the door to her room empty handed, and Bernie's panic reaches fever pitch.

“Where have you been?” She rushes over to the courtesan, grabbing both of her hands in each of her own. “Where are your things?” She asks hesitantly, afraid of the answer, as she runs one hand up Serena's side to settle on her cheek.

“I came to tell you I've decided to stay here with the Duke.” Serena would rather bite off her own tongue than says those words.

“What? No.” Bernie's face crumples with anguish. “That's not true. Something's happened. What's wrong?” She clutches on to the brunette for dear life. “Tell me the truth.” She rests her forehead against Serena's and when the brunette gives her no answer, her anger takes over. “TELL ME!”

Serena jumps at the outburst, she'd never heard the blonde raise her voice like that and her heart breaks further.

“We were kidding ourselves. This isn't what I want. I was curious about being with a woman.” Bernie recoils as if Serena had physically struck her. “You were just an experiment. I know now that I want what you can't give me. I want a man.” Serena closes her eyes as she starts to feel sick. This was the only way, she knew that this was Bernie's biggest insecurity. There was no going back from this. It was over. She steps in to the blonde and whispers her final blow to the woman she loves. “I am the Indian courtesan and I choose the maharaja.”

Bernie can't stand up any longer as the pain of Serena's words cripples her. She sinks on to her bed and looks anywhere but at Serena as the tears start to flow. Serena can’t see her face and Bernie tries not to make a sound, but the rise and fall of her shoulders tells the brunette that she's sobbing.

Serena does the hardest thing she's ever done in her life and walks away then, leaving Bernie devastated. She curls into a ball on the sheets and cries until she has nothing left. Serena's words loop over and over in her head until she can't stand it anymore. She decides she can't leave it there, she needs to hear Serena say that she doesn't love her, only then will she be convinced.

 “SERENA!!” She stands at the front doors to the theatre shouting for her, the men on the door have been told not to admit her. “SERENA!!” She screams for her lover at the top of her lungs, until the men fling her out of the courtyard onto the street, with a firm punch to her left jaw as a warning not to come back.

She traipses back to her dwellings, broken and hopeless. Little does she know that her pleas had been heard by the courtesan, who had to call on every ounce of strength in her not to run outside to Bernie and never let go. Serena lets a single tear trace down her cheek as she tries to ignore the blonde's cries.

Toulouse finds Bernie lying on her bed and staring at nothing in particular, obvious heartbreak written on her features.

“She loves you. I know she loves you.” He is adamant and his words make Bernie flinch.

“Go away, Toulouse.” Bernie doesn't look up as she dismisses him. “Go away.” She repeats through gritted teeth when he makes no move to leave. “GO AWAY!!” She screams at him to leave her alone with her misery.

He finally does as she wants, but Bernie can't help but wonder if he was right. She gathers herself, sells everything she can to raise the cash and heads back to the Moulin Rouge to pay her bill.

She manages to sneak in through the side door unnoticed and ‘borrows’ the Argentinean's sitar player costume when he has another narcoleptic episode while practicing his lines backstage.

Serena is putting the finishes touches to her make-up when Bernie approaches her behind the scenes.

“Bernie, what are you doing here?” Serena attempts to move past her but the blonde won't budge.

“I've come to settle my debt.” Bernie thrusts the wad of notes at the courtesan. “After all, you did your job very well. You should be paid.”

Serena ignores the money as she tries to get away from the blonde. Spotting the Duke's manservant reaching for his gun, she turns back to steer Bernie away from the danger.

“Please, Bernie. You can't be here. Please go.” Serena looks imploringly at the other woman, trying to keep her safe.

“You deserve to be paid. You made believe that you loved me. Why can't I pay you like everyone else?” Bernie's words are harsh but her eyes are full of unshed tears and endless love.

“I can't remember my line.” Toulouse's mind goes blank as his cue approaches, whilst he is running over his one and only line backstage, when he spies the Duke’s manservant holding his gun towards Bernie. “That's why she did it. He's trying to kill Bernie.” He moves towards the couple to warn them, finally understanding why Serena had pretended not to love the writer.

Bernie and Serena struggle backstage as the blonde tries to get the courtesan to just take the money. “Tell me. Tell me you don't love me!” She grabs Serena by the upper arms and has to refrain from shaking the admission out of her, she is so clearly distraught.

Toulouse shouts and runs over as the manservant reaches the couple, trying to get their attention, but the manservant pulls back out of sight when a prop door opens thrusting Serena and Bernie into the spotlight.

Zidler quickly gets back into character as the evil maharaja and proclaims that Bernie's ‘disguise’ doesn't fool him, he knows that it's the same penniless sitar player.

Bernie trails Serena out onto centre stage, she lies broken on the ground, as the blonde throws the notes at her in contempt.

“There! I have paid my whore.” Bernie snarls at the courtesan as she tries to keep her voice steady. “I owe you nothing and you mean nothing to me.” Serena blinks at the tears in her eyes, she had lost Bernie forever. “Thank you for ridding me of my ridiculous obsession with love.” Bernie’s voice breaks as she turns to walk out of the theatre, all Serena can do is watch her leave. Both of their hearts breaking with each of the blonde's steps.

“I've got it!” Toulouse rushes to deliver his line, when his foot gets stuck in one of the overhead ropes and he is left dangling head first above the stage. “The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return!!” He screams out his line as Bernie reaches the halfway point to the door.

Serena realises that he's right and that she can't bear to let Bernie go, she does the first thing she can think of, short of running after her. “Never knew I could feel like this.”

Bernie's steps falter slightly but she keeps going, so Serena continues singing.

“Like I've never seen the sky before. I want to vanish inside your kiss. Every day I’m loving you more and more.” She wills Bernie to please, please, please, please turn around and come back to her. “Come What May!”

Bernie can't stop herself from singing back to Serena as she makes her way back onto the stage and holds her in her arms again.

The Duke signals for his manservant to put a stop to it from his front row seat.

“Bernie, he's got a gun!” Toulouse bellows from the rafters but it is knocked from the manservant’s hand by a fall bag of sand. The audience are in raptures, believing it's all part of the show.

The Duke storms for the exit but the thump of the gun falling almost at his feet is too good to pass up. He lifts the weapon and rushes the stage, pointing the gun at Bernie. “She's mine!” He rants as he approaches but Zidler clobbers him and the gun flies out of a nearby window, as the Duke lies sprawled and thwarted in the aisle.

The show ends to thunderous applause and a standing ovation, while Bernie and Serena kiss long and deep as the curtain closes.

“I love you.” Serena whispers into the gap between their lips.

“I love you so much.” Bernie replies as they wait for their curtain call, with a huge grin on her face.

Serena gasps out an agonised breath as she suddenly collapses in the blonde’s hold.

“Serena?” Bernie gently lowers her to the floor. “Serena, what's wrong?”

A few hacking coughs work their way up from the brunette's lungs and a steak of startling red blood appears from the side of her mouth.

Bernie runs her hand over the liquid and her fingers come away bloodstained. “Serena!”

“I'm sorry, Bernie.” Serena smiles softly up at her love. “I'm sorry.”

“Somebody get some help! Please!” Bernie clings to the brunette, cradling her gently in her embrace.

“Marie, fetch the doctor!” Zidler orders as the woman rushes away.

“Hold me.” Serena asks as she stares longingly into the brownest, most incredible eyes she'd ever seen. No one had ever looked at her that way. She was glad she'd lived to see it.

“I love you.” Bernie tells her as Serena smiles up at her. She'd never tire of hearing that, if only she'd have the chance to hear it again. Those three small, simple words made Serena's heart beat faster and filled her with warmth and joy.

“You've got to go on, Bernie.” She whispers into the blonde's ear as she holds her close, as requested.

“I can't go on without you, though.” Bernie pulls back to catch Serena's eye.

“You have to. You have so much to give.” Serena reaches up to brush her fingertips over the blonde's cheek and lips. “Tell our story, Bernie.”

“No.” Bernie sobs out. Serena was talking as if she... Bernie couldn't even think of that.

“Yes. Promise me.” Serena smiles softly up at Bernie. “Promise me...”

Bernie nods her head to give her promise as she leans down to brush her lips against Serena's.

“I will always be with you.” Serena's expression softens even more as she commits the blonde’s features to memory. Wherever she went after this life, at least she could say that she'd already seen an angel.

Bernie kisses her tenderly once more and pulls back sobbing when Serena stops responding, having taken her last breath.

“No! NOOOOO!!” Bernie clings to Serena’s lifeless body as she throws her head back and weeps for her lost love, rocking Serena gently in her arms, as the audience applauds, oblivious on the other side of the fallen curtain.

Present day

Bernie still sits at her typewriter, telling of how she had held Serena's body for the longest time, refusing to let her go when anyone came near them. She only relents hours later when Harry insists that she has to let them take care of arrangements.

She had wandered back to her lodgings in a grief stricken daze and began to drown her sorrows in whatever bottle of booze she could get her hands on. She wouldn't eat and didn't sleep so much as pass out from the alcohol. There had been a small, private memorial service and Bernie had stood off in the distance, unable to face all the people who only served to remind her that Serena was gone.

Harold had called in during one of her slightly more lucid days and made sure that she got her share of the takings from Spectacular Spectacular. She no longer bothered to hide the fact that she was a woman, she didn't care, nothing mattered without Serena. He had told her that they were closing the Moulin Rouge and that was the end of her last connection to Serena.

She didn't spend a penny of her earnings, except to buy back her typewriter and pretend that she could keep her promise to tell their story.

Then one not so extraordinary day she had sat down and started to type. She had written about a time and a place and all of the people involved. But above all things she had written about love. _A love that would last forever._

As she typed _The End_ she thought of how unsatisfactory those two words were. They didn't tell of how she would always love Serena, there was no end to that.

She pulls the last page out of the roller and places it face down with the rest, a small smile of accomplishment on her lips. She'd done it. She'd kept her promise.

A soft knocking on her door takes her out of her memories and she doesn't feel up to seeing anyone right now.

“Please go away and leave me alone.” She calls through the closed door. Maybe she should have pretended not to be there, but anyone who knew her, knew she hadn't left her room in months.

Whoever it is, wasn't giving up as the knocking persists.

“Please. I just want to be left in peace!” Bernie throws the door wide to tell the intruder to sod off. The figure on the other side is the very last person she could expect. Her gasp and wide eyes make it look like she's seen a ghost. She has. “Serena?” She sinks to her knees as the shock makes her legs give out. “No. You're dead. You can't be here. I must be going mad.” She closes her eyes and tells herself to go easier on the drink from now on. But then why would Serena’s hair be so short?

Serena drops down to her knees facing the blonde and strokes her face lightly. Bernie gasps as she knows the brunette's touch so well, even after all this time. It was Serena. She brings her hand up to cover Serena's and runs her thumb over the back as she slowly opens her eyes.

“How?” Is all Bernie can croak out as Serena frames her face with both hands, wipes at her tears with the pads of her thumbs and kisses her deeply.

Bernie hugs the brunette to her as closely as she can and returns the kiss eagerly. Both can taste the salty wetness of tears and can't be sure who they belong to anymore, neither care enough to stop.

“It was all Harry's idea.” Serena explains breathlessly when she has to pull away.

Bernie's furrowed brow spurs her on to tell her the whole thing.

“I was having my fainting spells. You remember, like the one I had that first night we met.” Serena checks that the blonde is following as Bernie nods speechless. “Turns out he had switched my corsets for much smaller ones, he had everyone convinced that I was dying. Even paid the doctor to confirm it. I didn't even know myself until opening night. He came to me, said that there was a way for me to be free of the Duke, but I couldn't tell anyone. Not even you. It had to be believable. He'd managed to somehow get hold of some sort of drug that makes it seem that a person is dead. I took it before we went on stage.”

Bernie interrupts her then. “But you coughed up blood. I saw you.”

“Well, a small pinprick inside my mouth and it was easy.” Serena smiles shyly. “Anyway, everyone had to think I’d died so that word would never reach the Duke. Harold hid me away until the drugs wore off. When everything was ready, I had to come back for you.”

“Ready?” Bernie asks. “What happened to your hair?” She smiles as she runs her fingers through the cropped locks.

“Well, I changed my appearance a little just in case. You don't think it's too short?” Serena looks uncertain.

“I think you are the most beautiful thing these tired, heartbroken eyes have ever seen. You're gorgeous.” Bernie surges forward to kiss her again.

“And I sold my hair to buy these.” Serena grins as she fishes something out of her bag. She opens her hand to reveal two matching gold rings sitting in her palm. “I know we can't really get married and I guess we'll have to pretend to be sisters in public, but I want to spend the rest of our lives together. If you want to?” She looks over at Bernie hopefully. “I had to buy new papers. I changed my name.” She's too nervous to wait for Bernie's answer as she pulls the papers out and shows her new name to the blonde.

“Serena Wolfe.” Bernie sighs out as she runs her finger over the words.

“I hope you don't mind.” Serena drops her gaze to the floor.

“Mind?” Bernie echoes incredulously. “I can't think of anything better.” She beams as she takes her ring from Serena's palm and places it on the brunette’s finger, before Serena slips hers onto the blonde's hand as well.

Serena breathes out relieved and overjoyed as Bernie shuts and locks the door behind them.

“I have some money saved from the show. We could go back to London together.” Bernie starts to gather her luggage. She'd never really unpacked.

“I just want to be wherever you are.” Serena links hands with the blonde and kisses her temple. Bernie stops what she was doing as she suddenly thinks of something more pressing to do.

“I hope we have some time before we leave.” Bernie walks her backwards until they are both lying on the bed. “I want to make love to my new wife first.” She starts to undress them both.

“I am so in love with you.” Serena states. “I've missed you so much more than I can say.

“All these months, I thought you were gone. I was so lost without you. I am deeply, wholly, completely in love with you.” Bernie smiles into a soft kiss. And then another. And then another. She slowly and gently reacquaints herself with Serena's body. It had been so long for both of them, and the sheer ecstasy of being together again, means that it takes very little to find themselves falling apart in each other's arms.

“Sorry.” Bernie pants out her apology, embarrassed at how quickly she'd finished.

“Don't be. We have the rest of our lives to do that again, as many times as possible.” Serena grins seductively as she straddles Bernie’s hips. “And I think the rest of our lives should start right now, don't you?” She quirks an eyebrow and kisses Bernie's agreeing smile from the blonde's lips.

The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really do unhappy endings. And it looks like we might not get a happy one from the show so...
> 
> I changed it! Hope everyone likes it :-)


End file.
